


the positive effects of an omegan thrall

by nise_kazura



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha!hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Plugs, Asphyxiation, Blood As Lube, Bondage, Breeding Kink, Captivity, Dissociation, Dubious Consent, Internalized Victim Blaming, M/M, Mindbreak, Mpreg, Omega!will, Somnophilia, Spanking, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Whump, belly bulge, no beta we die like men, throat-knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-02 18:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nise_kazura/pseuds/nise_kazura
Summary: Usually it's the prettier, more delicate, younger omegas that get put in unfortunate situations like these. Usually it’s because some alpha in their lives assumed that they have the rights to their body, and the omega in question wasn't smart enough to catch the signs of obsession before so-called Omega-Induced Monomania (OIM) takes over. Many an alpha have been acquitted on the grounds of OIM—Will has seen it more times than he can count. After all, it's the omega's fault for giving off the wrong impression, for taking advantage of an alpha's possessive and aggressive instincts. For luring them into an omegan thrall, in order to get attention. Play with fire and you get burned, and all that.On some level, Will agrees—alphas are particularly susceptible to any signals from any omega, real or imagined. And in many cases, the omega remains with the alpha after discovery—more proof that they’d simply gotten what they wanted all along. Some say the omega was asking for it. Some say they wanted it. Some say it was their plan all along, and that the alpha in question should be compensated for their trouble. Either way, general consensus points to the same outcome it always does: omegan submission.





	the positive effects of an omegan thrall

day 1

Will wakes slowly, like trying to tread water while not knowing which way is up. When he gets his bearings, he finds himself in a...disappointingly predictable set-up. On a bed, tied up. Hands and legs spread apart. He tests his ties, finds them secure. He realizes he should be panicking—any omega would, in his position. It doesn't take his kind of imagination to know what's going on here.

He'd never expected himself to be in this position—usually it's the prettier, more delicate, younger omegas that get put in unfortunate situations like these. Usually it’s because some alpha in their lives assumed that they have the rights to their body, and the omega in question wasn't smart enough to catch the signs of obsession before so-called Omega-Induced Monomania (OIM) takes over. Many an alpha have been acquitted on the grounds of OIM—Will has seen it more times than he can count. After all, it's the omega's fault for giving off the wrong impression, for taking advantage of an alpha's possessive and aggressive instincts. For luring them into an omegan thrall, in order to get attention. Play with fire and you get burned, and all that.

On some level, Will agrees—alphas are particularly susceptible to any signals from any omega, real or imagined. And in many cases, the omega remains with the alpha after discovery—more proof that they’d simply gotten what they wanted all along. Some say the omega was asking for it. Some say they wanted it. Some say it was their plan all along, and that the alpha in question should be compensated for their trouble. Either way, general consensus points to the same outcome it always does: omegan submission.

The problem is, Will has no idea what situation he’s in now. He knows who has captured him—he recognizes the scent soaked in the bedsheets, the style of decor. It could only be one person. But he’d had no idea that Hannibal was interested in him at all. Had he somehow lured Hannibal in without thinking?

But Hannibal is an exceedingly self-possessed alpha, it would take an incredible amount of conscious manipulation to get this sort of reaction out of him. Surely Will couldn’t have done that without even trying. He tries to tamp down on the small thrill his omega gives him at the idea of getting the attention of such a fine alpha. He’s never had that kind of attention before.

He tells himself, again, that he should be panicking. But he can’t, his emotions seem to be under lock and key.  _ A self-preservation tactic, _ he realizes.

He hopes it’ll last.

* * *

day 2

Hannibal feeds him by hand. They don’t speak. The food is delicious, but in small portions.

After Will finishes his food, Hannibal pets his hair, softly, almost fond. It’s a patronizing touch, possessive. Will instinctively bristles under it—unlike most omegas, he’s never really craved touch. The opposite, really. The fact that Hannibal sees him as one of his possessions is becoming abundantly clear—none of his usual polite questions and offers are present. Just the food, his hand, and the silent pressure of his expectation for obedience.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he says. Will knows.

“I’m going to give you a baby,” he says, and at this, Will stiffens. Gulps.

The panic that was nonexistent before begins to tickle up his throat like a building scream.

“Ha—”

Hannibal smacks him, backhands him for daring to speak. Like a disobedient animal.

“This is your fault, Will, you know.” Will wants to ask what it was that he did. He’d never been able to attract an alpha before, even when he tried. He’s only been with beta men before, some women, one-night stands in dingy bars. But he knows better than to open his mouth again. He can taste blood where his teeth had cut unto his cheek.

“Giving your attention to all those other alphas, but always ignoring me. Always refusing my touch. Always resisting your attraction to me, but making sure I knew you were interested anyway. You should know better than that, Will. An unmated omega, like you. I’ll teach you how to behave properly, like a real omega. It must be because you never knew your dam. You’ll have to learn, if you are to be my mate. But I’m sure you’ll pick up quickly. You always have.”

* * *

day 3

Will is vaguely nauseous. His head pounds. He’s thirsty, hungry. Did he do something? Is there a reason why Hannibal hasn’t come down to feed him yet? Hannibal loves feeding people, loves taking care of his things. Will noticed how much Hannibal had enjoyed it when Will accepted his offerings. Had those offerings been courting attempts? How had Will not noticed? He wonders if Hannibal has anyone taking care of his dogs. If Jack has noticed his absence yet, if another body has turned up that they need him for. He wonders if they’ll even bother freeing him, if they found him. Would they just leave him here, with Hannibal? Finally, the unruly, unorthodox omega gets a handler.

He wonders if he has a fighting chance at all.

* * *

day 4

Will had lost feeling in his arms and legs long ago. He hasn’t been able to move more than his head since he woke up in here. He spends a lot of time asleep, and then the hollow feeling in his stomach comes back with a vengeance, and he wakes. He hallucinates. A stag. The silhouettes of Abigail and Alana as inkdrops in water. His mouth is dry, he feels light and hollow and cold. Like he’s going to disappear. He wishes he could disappear.

* * *

day 5

Hannibal strips clinically by the bed. When he straightens, he looks proud. Preening for the omega he has in possession. His cock hangs heavy between his legs. Will tries not to look for too long, hyperaware of the way Hannibal tracks his every movement, his breath. Afraid of giving off the wrong impression (again).

“Hannibal,” Will whispers, voice low and croaky. He wants to ask if Hannibal intends to fuck him and let him die. It’s unlike Hannibal to neglect his possessions. He’s afraid that Hannibal has already decided to dispose of him. He wonders why he’s more afraid of being discarded than of being abused.

Hannibal cocks his head.

“That’s not what you should be calling me.”

Will frowns.

“Dr. Lecter,” he tries.

Hannibal sighs through his nose. Will feels his disapproval like a punch to the gut.

He’s hovering over Will, now, cock hardening at the sight of Will so helpless beneath him. At the smell of alpha arousal, Will’s body automatically reacts. He can feel his hole clench, twitch. His heart rate increases, his breathing stutters. His eyes dilate.

However, he’s supposed to sweat, as well, release his own answering pheromones, start leaking slick. When this doesn’t happen, he comes to a horrifying conclusion.

_ I’m too dehydrated, _ he realizes.  _ My body is trying to conserve liquid. _

Hannibal lines his cock up anyway.

“One day, you’ll understand,” Hannibal says, “why I need to punish you first.”

He pushes in without any preamble, without any preparation, without any lubrication. For a moment, Will can only stare sightlessly at the ceiling, so overcome with the  _ size.  _ The thickness, the fullness, the heat.

And then he begins to tear.

“H-Hannibal,” he gasps again, body trembling. The smell of sex and blood rises in the air.

“That’s not what you call me,” Hannibal repeats.

He can’t even scream, his mind is so white-blank with pain. His breath is caught in his throat, and all he can do is wheeze.

Hannibal begins to thrust, one hand’s fingers digging into Will’s hipbone, the other rubbing over Will’s stomach, pressing down on where Will’s womb lies. He grunts, speeds up. Will whimpers as the knot begins to swell. He’s never taken a knot before. He can’t—it can’t possibly—

But it does.

It grows, and grows, and grows. There’s the slick sound of the knot slipping in and out of his hole, the feeling of skin dragging over skin, of blood sticking to his thighs.

And then, Will jerks, entire body stiffening, snapping into a taut arc, and he moans.

His body opens up, his head falls back, the knot pops in. Hannibal is cumming, biting him, body undulating over Will’s as he growls, teeth nearly ripping out the muscle, and he gives his head a shake. Will realizes he’s crying, whining. If he had control over his limbs, maybe he’d be tugging at his bonds. Hannibal licks at the wound, cock still jerking and releasing his seed inside of Will.

“Alpha,” Will breathes, and Hannibal smiles.

* * *

day 9

Will is counting the days with dread. It’s been over a week since he’s had his suppressants—he’ll be fertile, soon.

He doesn’t want kids. Never did.

Too afraid of bringing another omega into the world—another disadvantaged, another looked-down-upon, another weakness.

He doesn’t want  _ Hannibal’s _ kid. He doesn’t want to bring in another pity case, another OIM-baby, he doesn’t want to be Hannibal’s stay-at-home broodmare.

But that’s what he is.

Hannibal is fucking him again. It’s all he ever does, all Will ever gets to experience besides sleep and staring blankly at the ceiling. He’s mercifully careful this time, wary of the stitches that have yet to come out.

“Just like that, just like that, Will,” Hannibal murmurs, nosing sweetly at his cheek. “My omega. You learn so quickly, you’re doing so well.”

Hannibal is following his alphan instincts to sooth, to praise. To shower love upon his mate.

That’s what this is. Love. That’s what they all call it.

Will closes his eyes.

He’s spent days upon days thinking about everything, trying to rationalize the situation, trying to regain control.

The only conclusion he’s been able to reach is that this is his fault. He’s the one who kept coming to Hannibal, an unmated alpha, as an unmated omega, alone. Offered intimacy in the private setting of Hannibal’s office, without ever following through. Forgot to wear his scentblockers a few times, enough for Hannibal to catch his scent and imprint it upon his memory. Showed vulnerability, inciting Hannibal’s alphan protective instincts, and then when the protective instincts weren’t given enough outlet, incited the possessive ones. He gave Hannibal a chase—he can’t complain now that he’s been caught.

It’s his fault. He can’t blame Hannibal for this.  _ Society _ wouldn’t blame Hannibal for this. And what is truth but majority rule?

Hannibal brushes against that spot inside of him, and Will lets out a tiny mewl. They never speak anymore, not like they used to. Their positions are no longer that of equals. Now they are simply owner and owned.

Will finds that he misses Hannibal.

_ This is my fault.  _ The realization hits him again, anew. He’s tired of crying, but his eyes water anyway.  _ This is all my fault. _

Hannibal comes with a groan, burying his face into Will’s neck, hips grinding into his, cooing and petting Will’s sides.

_ I’m sorry, Hannibal, for pushing you so far. For turning you into this. I’m sorry. _

* * *

day 17

The pain in Will’s abdomen is an ever-present ache. Hannibal gives him water, now. Feeds him sometimes. The food is always good, when he gets it.

He’s started creating slick again. Sometimes, sex even feels kind of good. His heat is coming soon, he can feel it like an itch under his skin. It feels like apprehension.

He hardly ever comes when Hannibal fucks him. But he’s discovered that part of him…still enjoys Hannibal’s company. The only stimulation he gets now is when he’s getting fucked, and his overactive mind craves it. Nowadays, even his hallucinations bore him. So he likes it when Hannibal comes to visit him, likes the break in monotony, the way he can actually feel something when he’s getting filled with cock. Likes the rocking motion of their bodies, the smell of Hannibal’s pheromones.

He likes knowing he can please. Atone.

Hannibal tilts his hips up, and Will moans in protest. He’s stuffed. Hannibal, as an alpha, comes a  _ lot.  _ And ever since the first time, when Hannibal had to stitch Will back up, he hasn’t let Will spill a drop. There’s a small bulge in Will’s lower abdomen, taut and literally swollen with semen. It stands out prominently against his flat stomach, the sharp jut of his hipbones, his stick-thin thighs.

Hannibal feeds him sometimes, but othertimes he tells Will that all he needs to fill him up is his seed.

Hannibal noses at the plug nestled in Will’s ass, sighing at the smell of his seed mingling with the smell of Will’s slick. He presses down on Will’s distended belly, and Will squirms, as best as he can with his atrophied muscles and restraints.

“Alpha, please,” his voice is weak, pleading.

_ Please, no more. _

Hannibal pulls out the plug, uses his fingers to push the cum that threatens to leak out back in. Watches the way Will’s body opens up for him, even like this.

“Now, now, darling, you know what your job is,” Hannibal admonishes gently.

Will closes his eyes, lets his mind go blissfully blank, and tries his best to relax.

* * *

day 23

Will is a sweaty, trembly, oversensitive mess. He calls for his alpha, over and over again, crying and sobbing and begging to deaf walls. When Hannibal finally arrives, at the peak of Will’s heat, the bed is soaked through and Will is already exhausted, face and neck red, chest heaving.

“Poor thing,” Hannibal tuts. “Can’t survive on your own, can you?”

Will doesn’t even have the energy to lift his head, or to respond. Breathing is tiring. Keeping his eyes open is tiring. Trying to focus on anything is tiring. Every time a thought comes to mind it slips away as another jolt of pain from the cramping of his empty womb pushes it aside.

His omega is screaming at him, telling him to present, telling him to appeal to his alpha, to do everything he can to make the pain go away. It wants a baby. It wants to be fucked. It wants to take over, to erase Will Graham.

Hannibal straddles his face, and cups his jaw.

“That’s a good boy,” he murmurs, and feeds Will his cock.

Will could scream. It’s right there. Right there. Hannibal’s cock is right there, in his face, balls slapping his chin. But he doesn’t want it there, he needs it in his  _ ass.  _ In his cunt, where it belongs. He weakly moans, tongue wriggling, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He can’t breathe properly around Hannibal’s cock. It punches the back of his throat, ramming his esophagus, choking him. His head feels like it’s swelling, splitting. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Hannibal’s knot begins to swell behind his teeth. His hole clenches in want, his omega wailing inside his chest in despair.

Hannibal pushes forward, grabbing Will’s head and forcing his nose into the tuft of hair sitting at the base of his cock. Black dots begin to dance around Will’s vision. He groans, throat convulsing as hot cum spills down the back of it. The knot in his mouth swells, blocking his airway. He struggles, feebly, as Hannibal gently runs his fingers through his hair, shushing him.

He blacks out.

* * *

When he comes to, he’s already hard. He realizes that his restraints have been undone. He’s face down on the bed, ass in the air. Hannibal smacks it, hard, and Will whines into the silk sheets.

Ah. So that’s what woke him up.

At this angle, Hannibal hits that sweet spot inside him with every thrust. Will wiggles back onto the cock pounding into him, letting his limbs go gooey and soft.

“I’m going to breed you,  _ omega _ ,” Hannibal growls. “Fill you with seed, make you fat with pups. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? That’s what you want. That’s what you’re made for.”

Before long Will’s hiccupping, sobbing, little  _ ah-ah-aah _ ’s spilling from his lips.

“It’s all right. I’ll fuck you. I’ll give you what you want. You want my cock, don’t you? You want my pups. You want to carry me inside you. I’ve been good to you, haven’t I? Given you everything you could ever want.”

“Alpha!” he cries, and he swears, the feeling of Hannibal’s knot forcing its way in, his inner muscles clamping down and spasming around the burning intrusion, his balls tightening and drawing up at the same time—the simultaneity of their pleasure is the best thing he’s ever experienced in his entire life.

Is this why Hannibal decided to take him in? To show him this?

Will thinks he could understand. This euphoria, this absolute ascension into nothing but bodily sensation—this complete extermination of ego…it’s freeing.

He’s no longer Will Graham, FBI consultant. Will Graham, owner of seven dogs. Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter’s captive.

Now, he’s just an omega. An empty womb, being filled. Given purpose.

He feels possesssed, owned. Safe. Warm.

The omega sighs happily as his alpha presses a kiss to the back of his nape.

“That’s it, just like that.”

_ Oh, good,  _ the omega thinks,  _ I did something right. _

* * *

day ???

The omega doesn’t recognize himself. His belly has swelled up, breasts have grown in. His hips are still sore and aching from how they’ve been forced to grow, widen, in order to accommodate for the pregnancy. His body is no longer his. It never was.

It’s okay. He doesn’t need to recognize himself. He doesn’t need to be anyone, or anything other than a hole to fuck. He knows this, and he’s fine with it. It’s all he’s good for, anyways. It’s what he wanted. He did this to himself, because he was dying in his other life. Now, he’s living, and he’s going to have a baby.

His alpha is good to him, sweet. He snuggles into the omega, licking at their mating mark. Pleasant tingles run down the omega’s spine.

There’s no need for him to be tied down, anymore. He’ll never regain full use of his limbs, but he doesn’t need them anyway.

“Did you know,” his alpha says, “that prolonged, exclusive exposure to one alpha’s scent can have a hypnotic effect on omegas?”

The omega doesn’t respond, simply happy with the hand that rubs over his stomach, with the knot nestled in his ass.

“It’s a form of conditioning. Omegas are primed to accept alphan protection, but also to fear alphan aggression. It just so happens that in both cases, the best way to get what they want is to submit.”

Something tickles the back of the omega’s mind, and he frowns, a little.

“Would you like to see Jack, Will?”

Jack? Why? What need does the omega have for another alpha? He doesn’t want another alpha. He only wants  _ his  _ alpha’s knot, no one else’s. He growls a little, displeased. His alpha chuckles, soothingly nipping at his ear.

“Prolonged, exclusive exposure to one alpha’s scent signals to the omegan hindbrain that they are under the protection of a very possessive, and aggressive alpha. In order to protect itself, the omega’s higher brain functions go dormant, allowing instinct to take over. Survival is put first. If the omega doesn’t learn to submit quickly and quietly, they will lose their protection, and their protector will turn on them. Evolutionary.”

Satisfied now that his alpha won’t be giving him away, the omega decides to stop listening. The knot in his ass is beginning to die down. He hopes that doesn’t mean his alpha will leave. He doesn’t like it when his alpha’s gone. He thinks too much when that happens. Thinking is bad for him.

“Aren’t you glad to be here, Will?”

Of course he is. Where else would he go?

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't edited this pls b gentle w me lmao
> 
> im aware this is v ooc for both hannibal and will for various reasons, but sometimes the horny brain takes over and it demands something and your obsession with Hannibal wont let u write anything without Hannibal and Will in it and that's just how it be :^)


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